Souffle girl
by jammiedodgersandbowties
Summary: A short drabble in where Clara attempts to make the perfect soufflé but the Doctor ruins it. Fluff. 11/Clara.


Hello all, I haven't posted a story in a few days sorry! I don't know how often I will posting in the upcoming months as they are very busy but I will try to post as much as possible!

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Clara stood in front of the oven watching her soufflé rise. She had her arms crossed and she stared at it intently, watching it cook. It only had one minute left on the timer. Just then the Doctor walked in and watched her with a smile on his face, Clara had been trying to make the perfect soufflé for a very long time now. The Doctor came up behind her and squeezed her waist delicately with a grin to his face.

"Soufflé girl." he greeted her with.

She spun around and rolled her eyes at him, before grinning back. "I can't have that name until I make the perfect soufflé." she replied with.

"Oh don't be so silly Clara." the Doctor said.

She frowned and he moved his hands to her lip, to force a smile upon her face again. This made her giggle.

"Doctor." she said.

"Clara." he replied, in the same tone as her.

He loved teasing her about her soufflés, though she did try very hard. He admired her for that.

Just then the timer on the oven rang and she spun back around to put her pink oven mitts on but the Doctor grabbed them off her before she could and took over.

"Oi chin." she said, trying to grab them back off him.

He moved out of her direction and tried to open the oven but Clara tackled him.

"Let me get it." she begged, jumping up and down. She was like a little girl.

"No." he replied, bumping her side.

She pouted and tickled his sides. A wide smile came to both their faces, a look of nothing but mischief on their faces and he began to tickle her back. Before they knew it, they were both on the ground, the Doctor on top of Clara tickling her. She attempted to tickle back, but he held her down with her pink oven mitts.

Clara was worn out after a few minutes and had forgotten all about the soufflé. The Doctor had too. He finally let off her and she sat up punching his side gently to tease him.

"You're so unfair." she said.

"I am not!" he said back, defensively.

"Just because you're bigger than me..." she pouted, to tease him some more.

"It's not my fault you're small!"

"Oi!"

"Oi!" he replied, mocking her.

Just then a waft of smoke made its way to their direction, that was now behind the bench and Clara shot up quickly. She grabbed the oven mitts from him quickly and ran over to the oven.

"Doctor, I could kill you!" she said taking the now burnt soufflé out. "It would have been perfect this time!" she spoke again.

The Doctor couldn't help but chuckle, this time it hadn't been her and it had been all him.

"Clara I'm…" he began but Clara had taken the soufflé out of the oven and thrown it at him. It had hit his upper half.

"Clara!" he mocked, in shock.

"My soufflé would have been perfect!"

He stomped over to her and picked the soufflé off himself, pinning her against the bench and smearing it all over her face.

"It is perfect now." he said.

She pouted again, her bottom lip very fat now.

He chuckled at her before matching her pout. She giggled.

"For once." she began, "for once it would have been perfect."

"Might have, I didn't get to taste test it this time soufflé girl!" he teased.

"I don't get that name yet remember." she said back ruffling her hands through his hair with soufflé on them because he had put it all over her as well.

"Yes, you do." he said.

Still pushed against the bench, the Doctor pulled her in closer to himself and lent his face down, cupping her cake smeared, blushed and warm cheek.

"How?" she asked.

"You're my soufflé girl." he replied and kissed her lips gently, it was unexpected.

Clara smiled into his lips, and kissed him back gently.

They then pulled apart, it was all too soon.

"The soufflé isn't the soufflé – the soufflé is the recipe." he then whispered to her.

She giggled slightly.

"And you make a fine recipe Clara Oswald."

They then retreated to another kiss, a sweet kiss. Almost as sweet as Clara Oswald's soufflé would have /might/ have been.

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Thanks for reading!


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